Hellos, this is Naharithenooch with my first attempt at a fanfic, only because this little gremlin of a story refused to stay quiet any longer. Read & Reviews would be awesome. But be gentile...I bruise easily....

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Law and Order series, nor do I own their thriving characters within the series, but if I did have the chance I would definitely glump Bobby around his midsection like maple syrup on pancakes.(mmmmm....syrup....) ((mmmmm...Bobby....)) (((mmmmmm....Bobby and syrup......)))

DisclaimerII: I do not own any part of the Maple Syrup Corporation nor do I own their delightfully sweet secondary products. Thank you.

Anyway, here's the story:

The elevator ascended the building, humming quietly as the girl watched the lights.

Five…Six…

Was it floor eleven or floor twelve?

Nine...

Oh please let him be happy.

The bell ringed twice and the elevator came to a stop. She slowly took in a breath and walked through the open doors to the busy- and somehow organized-traffic paths of the detectives at work. She looked around curiously at the vast offices and cubicles in front of her. Was this it? Making sure she had not made a mistake, and fearing if she had tried to enter that elevator again she might not leave it until it landed on the first floor, she stopped a woman passing by to make sure.

"Excuse me, is this the Major Case Squad?" she asked her. The woman nodded and quickly went on her way.

So she was in the right place, but where could he be?

She walked around slowly to get her bearing, sticking out greatly as a slow-moving secluded object against the bustling business-suited rest. She did not feel secure about her situation until she finally spied a man working contently at his desk, scribbling down words with one hand as he held the phone with his other. A wide smile formed across her face as she stealthily traveled over the floor behind him. She snuck all the way up to his back, but he was oblivious that she was even there. Finally, he hung up the phone, and she brought her hands over his head and covered his eyes. He paused for a moment, curious by the sudden fingers covering his vision and she told him, "Guess who?"

Another woman arrived at the opposing desk with a file and slowed her movements as she watched the girl toying with her partner. He cocked his head, showing a slight smile.

"Eames?" He asked. "Did you find the file?"

"No, not Eames." The girl replied amusingly.

"Jennifer?"

"Nope."

"Well…who then?"

She finally unveiled his eyes and he turned around to face the young woman. She was no more than twenty, with dirty blond hair passing her shoulders and sharp brown eyes very similar to his. He rose from his seat and looked down at her in amazement.

"Amy?" The girl just showed a wide smile at him. He swirled from his chair and engulfed her in a smothering hug.

"My God, what are you doing here?" He finally asked her as he put her back on the ground and gave her room to breath again, smiling as well. His partner couldn't help but notice that smile; it was a true one, etching the edges of his mouth and eyes, not the blank one he usually had or would use to connect with suspects. This one was real, and was quite interesting to see after so many fake ones.

"Well," The girl began when she had regained her footing, "the Academy has this new rule that you need at least thirty hours experience on the job shadowing another detective. And I just said to myself, 'Who better to shadow than Bobby!' so, now I'm here."

"The Academy." he answered, more shocked than happy as the smile twitched away for a moment. She nodded her head vigorously in response.

There was a small clearing of the throat from the other woman, who was watching the two amusingly and with an eyebrow raised, quite surprised herself that her parter would show this much emotion in such a public place.

"Oh, Alex," Bobby replied to the 'introduce me' look on his partners face. "I'm sorry. This is my niece, Amy. Amy, this is Alexandra Eames. She's my partner." Amy gladly shook her hand over the table. "I heard a lot of things about you. Bet this guy keeps you always on your feet." And she gave a small nudge in Bobby's side.

Eames laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "It's mostly him doing all the work. I'm just the paper pusher."

Bobby looked from his niece to his partner, noticing the height difference between them but showing on his face he had a serious tone behind it. "Eames, will you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure," she replied, obviously knowing something was up.

He stepped away with Amy, then turned quickly back.

"Thanks," he said, pointing to the manila folder she had put on his desk. She shrugged in reply and nodded her head to tell him to get on his way. Bobby escorted his niece through the labyrinth of desks to one of the glass walled rooms and closed the door behind him.

"So Bobby," she asked excitedly, leaning against the table. "what's it like working as a detective?"

He turned to her after closing the vertical blinds to give them complete privacy and scratched the back of his head. "Oh, it's-ah, great. But I thought you were going to MIT?"

"Well, I thought about it," she answered softly, looking at the ground. "But then, I didn't want to. I wanted to follow the family line, you know?"

"It's a wonderful school," he said, "You'd excel very well there."

"And I've wanted to be a detective too, you know that."

But her uncle shook his head at her answer and scorned her like a little girl.

"No, it's not a good idea."

"Well, why not?"

"You're too smart for this!"

"So were you! Bobby, I'm what? five points away from your IQ, and I'm supposed to go to MIT."

"Amy, you're not cut out to be a detective. And Joe-"

His tongue held still from his words and felt his throat tighten, his face turning grey from that memory. He looked away from his niece. He didn't want to see her face anymore; it hurt him to look at her. The older she grew the more and more he could see his face in hers, there was so much of him in it. Bobby had to look away before that pain became too hard for him to control. But Amy kept her sight on her uncle, now understanding his extreme objection to the matter at hand.

"This is because of Dad, isn't it?"

But her uncle stayed quiet.

She went on solemnly, "Bobby, I know the dangers that come with the job; I've gone over it a thousand times in my head. But what happened to dad...It doesn't mean it will happen to me."

He glanced at her momentarily, feeling his stomach wrench again and took his eyes off her.

"Bobby, Grandpa was a cop, you're a cop, Dad was a cop. And...I wanna be one too. Can I please?"

The only response to it was a sigh. She looked at the ground, her forehead knotted meditatively. He didn't say yes, but he hadn't said no either.

"Tell you what," she finally said, seeing his head partially glance toward her in interest. "You let me get my thirty hours in with you. And if by then you still don't think I'm good enough to be a cop, I'll go to MIT. Deal?"

He looked up at her, her face inscrutable, only waiting on his reply.

You should've been a lawyer. He thought to her look as he finally put out his hand to her.

"Deal."

And they walked out of the room, though Bobby had to delay his steps from a terrible knot that had formed in his stomach.

The elevator ascended the building, humming quietly as the girl watched the lights. Five...Six... Was it floor eleven or floor twelve? Nine... Oh please let him be happy. The bell ringed twice and the elevator came to a stop. She slowly took in a breath and walked through the open doors to the busy- and somehow organized- traffic paths of the detectives at work. She looked around curiously at the vast offices and cubicles in front of her. Was this it? Making sure she had not made a mistake, and fearing if she had tried to enter that elevator again she might not leave it until it landed on the first floor, she stopped a woman passing by to make sure. "Excuse me, is this the Major Case Squad?" she asked her. The woman nodded and quickly went on her way. So she was in the right place, but where could he be? She walked around slowly to get her bearing, sticking out greatly as a slow- moving secluded object against the bustling business-suited rest. She did not feel secure about her situation until she finally spied a man working contently at his desk, scribbling down words with one hand as he held the phone with his other. A wide smile formed across her face as she stealthily traveled over the floor behind him. She snuck all the way up to his back, but he was oblivious that she was even there. Finally, he hung up the phone, and she brought her hands over his head and covered his eyes. He paused for a moment, curious by the sudden fingers covering his vision and she told him, "Guess who?" Another woman arrived at the opposing desk with a file and slowed her movements as she watched the girl toying with her partner. He cocked his head, showing a slight smile. "Eames?" He asked. "Did you find the file?" "No, not Eames." The girl replied amusingly. "Jennifer?" "Nope." "Well...who then?" She finally unveiled his eyes and he turned around to face the young woman. She was no more than twenty, with dirty blond hair passing her shoulders and sharp brown eyes very similar to his. He rose from his seat and looked down at her in amazement. "Amy?" The girl just showed a wide smile at him. He swirled from his chair and engulfed her in a smothering hug. "My God, what are you doing here?" He finally asked her as he put her back on the ground and gave her room to breath again, smiling as well. His partner couldn't help but notice that smile; it was a true one, etching the edges of his mouth and eyes, not the blank one he usually had or would use to connect with suspects. This one was real, and was quite interesting to see after so many fake ones. "Well," The girl began when she had regained her footing, "the Academy has this new rule that you need at least thirty hours experience on the job shadowing another detective. And I just said to myself, 'Who better to shadow than Bobby!' so, now I'm here." "The Academy." he answered, more shocked than happy as the smile twitched away for a moment. She nodded her head vigorously in response. There was a small clearing of the throat from the other woman, who was watching the two amusingly and with an eyebrow raised, quite surprised herself that her parter would show this much emotion in such a public place. "Oh, Alex," Bobby replied to the 'introduce me' look on his partners face. "I'm sorry. This is my niece, Amy. Amy, this is Alexandra Eames. She's my partner." Amy gladly shook her hand over the table. "I heard a lot of things about you. Bet this guy keeps you always on your feet." And she gave a small nudge in Bobby's side. Eames laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "It's mostly him doing all the work. I'm just the paper pusher." Bobby looked from his niece to his partner, noticing the height difference between them but showing on his face he had a serious tone behind it. "Eames, will you excuse us for a second?" "Sure," she replied, obviously knowing something was up. He stepped away with Amy, then turned quickly back. "Thanks," he said, pointing to the manila folder she had put on his desk. She shrugged in reply and nodded her head to tell him to get on his way. Bobby escorted his niece through the labyrinth of desks to one of the glass walled rooms and closed the door behind him. "So Bobby," she asked excitedly, leaning against the table. "what's it like working as a detective?" He turned to her after closing the vertical blinds to give them complete privacy and scratched the back of his head. "Oh, it's-ah, great. But I thought you were going to MIT?" "Well, I thought about it," she answered softly, looking at the ground. "But then, I didn't want to. I wanted to follow the family line, you know?"

But her uncle shook his head at her answer and scorned her like a little girl. "No, it's not a good idea." "Well, why not?" "You're too smart for this!" "So were you! Bobby, I'm what? five points away from your IQ, and I'm supposed to go to MIT." "Amy, you're not cut out to be a detective. And Joe-" His tongue held still from his words and felt his throat tighten, his face turning grey from that memory. He looked away from his niece. He didn't want to see her face anymore; it hurt him to look at her. The older she grew the more and more he could see his face in hers, there was so much of him in it. Bobby had to look away before that pain became too hard for him to control. But Amy kept her sight on her uncle, now understanding his extreme objection to the matter at hand. "This is because of Dad, isn't it?" But her uncle stayed quiet. She went on solemnly, "Bobby, I know the dangers that come with the job; I've gone over it a thousand times in my head. But what happened to dad...It doesn't mean it will happen to me." He glanced at her momentarily, feeling his stomach wrench again and took his eyes off her. "Bobby, Grandpa was a cop, you're a cop, Dad was a cop. And...I wanna be one too. Can I please?" The only response to it was a sigh. She looked at the ground, her forehead knotted meditatively. He didn't say yes, but he hadn't said no either. "Tell you what," she finally said, seeing his head partially glance toward her in interest. "You let me get my thirty hours in with you. And if by then you still don't think I'm good enough to be a cop, I'll go to MIT. Deal?" He looked up at her, her face inscrutable, only waiting on his reply. You should've been a lawyer. He thought to her look as he finally put out his hand to her. "Deal." And they walked out of the room, though Bobby had to delay his steps from a terrible knot that had formed in his stomach.